Chapter 15: The Cuttlefish

With Beck's help, we get James on the bed. There's no blood, but he's out cold and that's enough to turn my heart into a hand grenade. All Beck has to do is tell me that I've given him any sort of serious injury and I'm ready to explode.

Sometimes I'm stronger than I mean to be, and that's scary in itself. The last time I did something like this was-

I just want James to be okay.

My fingers keep tapping while Beck checks him out, but tapping might be a generous word. It feels like I'm hitting bone and I sort of wish that I'm leaving tiny bruises on my femur. Something, anything, to make me remember what I've done, no matter how hard I try to forget.

How did I mess it all up so bad? I was just trying to get him to stay, then leave, then...

Beck sighs, distracting me from the waves in my head. "He's okay, thank god. He should come-to in a few minutes."

It feels like I'm swallowing my own tongue, but I choke out the words to my question. "And the doors?"

"All locked, just like you asked."

He put an emphasis on "you wanted" that made me wince. When I first asked for his help, I made it clear that I wanted to get to talk after James woke up, so I also encouraged Beck to bring the keys.

My friendly downstairs scientist was still frowning about that.

Running his hand through his hair, Beck frowns at the entire scene: disaster room, James, and all, and says, "I really hope you understand how deeply ironic this whole thing is."

If I could cringe any harder, I would. Locking the doors already felt sinister enough, I don't need him to point any more fingers at my full package of Bond villain behavior. I even had the cat, for christ's sake. Now all I need are some ridiculous booby traps like a moat of sharks off my balcony.

Grimacing, I respond: "Very much so, Beck, you don't need to remind me."

"I'm just saying. Most creatures don't do well with captivity."

"I know, you said that already." I'm starting to get very sick of Beck's new favorite phrase. It needles me in a way I can't quite put my finger on.

But looking at my current Goldfinger situation, I feel much more comfortable with vulnerability than playing tough.

My hands knot to try to stave off the tapping and I ask, "What does that say about me?"

Beck startles me more by laughing. "When did I ever say you were doing well? Hell, you just soft-kidnapped a man."

If my insides didn't feel like they were ready to rip themselves out of my body to hang me on the nearest tree, I would've felt horrifically relieved. I guess I do, in a way.

One of these days, I need to get Beck a thank you cookie or something. Preferably the ordering kind, because I'm not exactly the best baker.

But if James doesn't completely hate me, I could get him some, too-

Who am I kidding? Even if he didn't hate me, he wouldn't stay. Though I wouldn't mind knowing what kind he liked. He looked like a Snickerdoodle type.

Beck snaps his fingers in front of my face, waking me up from my sugar-daze. "Hey, focus. In 12 hours, these doors unlock and I will not be locking them again."

"Thank you."

As he walks out of my room, Beck looks torn. Probably between being a good person and being the unfortunate accomplice of a cuttlefish with a smooth brain who's imprisoning a man in her bedroom. He says, "Go. Time's ticking."

And then he shuts the door behind him, leaving the scene of our crime. Well, mine, mostly.

But Beck's right; waiting for James to wake, the minutes tick on, and my itching fingers are going to bore a hole in my thigh if I let it continue.

Out of habit and desperation, I open my laptop and start to play one of my default action movies. In this drowning ocean of guilt and anxiety, I let the soft glow of Die Hard try to soothe the raging storm in my head before I asphyxiate.

But I barely get to the guns popping out at the Christmas party before I feel the comforter pull behind me.

I turn to look at James, rubbing his temple, his hair even messier than usual. He looks strange without his glasses. I hand them over, but the second he positions them on his face, he frowns my way. "Are you watching a movie?!"

"Thought it might calm my nerves." The sour look on James' face feels like lemon juice on an open wound. I'm an idiot, aren't I? Sighing, I try to be as honest as I can. Take the initiative on my lies, y'know?

I say, "I just want to talk."

His jaw taunt and angry, he stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and grabs the balcony doors. When they don't move, James pales. "You locked all the doors."

"Technically, Beck locked all the doors."

James glares at me. "Fine. Talk, then."

I suck in a deep breath and hold onto my thighs tightly, trying to shut up any and all tapping. I need to be honest and authentic and steady, with no anxious waves knocking me off course. "James, you being here has meant everything to me. I never... I don't want you to leave."

"I knew that part." The way he says that, so angry and disinterested, shoots me right through the heart. James furrows his brows and shakes his head, like he's acting out a murder mystery while I'm in a sci-fi flick. Granted, he doesn't know there's an alien in the room. It's kinda like the beginning of The Thing; all he knows is that he's trapped somewhere with a murderer.

While I haven't killed a man, it's still...

God, I just really don't want to be The Thing, especially not to James.

His words bite and claw at me when he speaks, "The part that's still fuzzy is how you got my necklace and Astra's clothes. That's what you won't answer and that's why I'm upset, Kai."

A wave of reality washes over me. Honesty doesn't matter then, does it? Not my feelings, not the way things have changed over the past month. All it's down to was the damned cuttlefish. And I can't exactly tell him about that, can I?

Then I would be The Thing.

Gripping my thighs even tighter, praying no shimmering spread to my hands or my neck, I say, "I can't explain."

James scoffs. "Let's backtrack, then, to a different problem- You had my necklace and you would have let me leave town without it?"

The air stills, and I know it's the wrong answer, but I tell the truth. James deserves that much. "If you would've gone? Yes."

"That's messed up, Kai."

He ruffles his own hair, but acts like he's ready to rip his own hair out at the end. I want to stop it, help him, but what can I say? Surprise, here's the real life alien monster that you've been befriending the past month?

James groans and his voice is getting louder and his questions fiercer. "What secret is that important? Is Astra your sibling and they get locked up in the basement only to be let out for rare midnight beach walkies?"

I don't mean to, but I snort through my nose and it hurts. "Something like that." When I see James' look of abject horror, I recoil. "Not... No, that's not what's happening."

I suddenly become so aware of the great distance between us. Not physically; I've been pulling him closer from the second he got here. He's a sun and my tragic, night creature existence just wants so desperately to be in his orbit. But as long as I'm a secret little cuttlefish and Kai and Astra are untrustworthy strangers to him...

Then, this past month really would've been a worthless fairytale.

With my lower lip wobbling, I ask, "James, did you like Astra?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"And did you like Kai?"

James pauses, still befuddled, but then he scans my face and gets this wispy smile, and I finally felt sure of something all night. He admits, "Yes."

My chest fills to bursting and that's it. I have to try.

Taking a step closer to James, my heart races. I can't look at him and his nightlight smile and hear him talk in his lullaby voice and know the reason I'll never see him again isn't because of some uncontrollable force of nature but because I refuse to let the first person who sees me *actually* see me.

I grab his hand and lightly squeeze his fingertips before letting go. "Hold on to that. Please, no matter what you're about to see." Trying to take the kind of rhythmic deep breaths of a Yoga class, I sound more like a prenatal class and I'm a little worried I might hyperventilate. "This might be the stupidest thing I'll ever do, but I'd love it if you proved me wrong."

He starts, "What-"

Just then, I let go. My secrets, my walls, my skin, all of it.

Over the years, I've done it hundreds of times, but it feels so different this time. With his wide eyes on me, it's like every single ripple took its own deliberate attention to work through. I've never felt so on edge and tired while doing it, but...

But I have to.

My skin shimmers and softens, darkens, and it makes me smile to feel my curls bounce on my shoulders. My freckles, my gray eyes, my brown skin. All of it is mine and James is here, seeing it.

When I open my eyes, James doesn't quite look horrified, but he's breathing heavily and his own hands are shaking. His eyes keep scraping over my body, over every pore, like he's trying to look for an answer on my skin.

The answer is there, but I doubt he understands that. I wouldn't be able to believe it, either, if it wasn't mine.

With an awkward wave, my shaky, higher-pitch voice says, "H-hi."

James just keeps staring. At least, I figure he's staring. I can barely look him directly in the eye the longer the silence goes on and I just stare at his feet. Feet make more sense right now.

Despite my averted eyes, though, I still can hear him ask, "What are you?"

Scratching my arms, I feel particularly soft and squishy. If Beck makes me feel like I'm under a microscope, James makes me feel like... the main character. While that sounds nicer, microscopes I understand. Main characters... Not so much.

Suddenly, my skin feels slimy and prickly and wrong, even though I'm Astra. But Astra's supposed to be comfortable. What's happening to me?

I try to glance up at James, but throw my gaze back down at the ground at the last second. Instead, I talk to the hardwood floor like it's him. "I don't know. I could be an evolutionary off-shoot or an alien. Mom just found me like this. I have similarities with Cuttlefish DNA and can shapeshift on a larger scale than they can. When I was little, I was Astra. Then, we had to move and I became Kai."

Blinking, James asks, "Are there any more versions of you?"

"Yes, one, but they don't have a name." I figure Beck's Alhibar barely counts as a form; I have no clue if I'll be able to do it a second time.

For the first time all conversation, James steps closer. Startled, I look up. Those eyes of his are honey and sweet and soft all over again and it sticks the air to the back of my throat. "Can I see you?"

Of all things, I don't expect that. Maybe I should, since I just told him I'm a shape-shifter. Skin-walker. Whatever. But I figure that shape-shifter might be enough for him to stop wanting to ask questions, or realize there's more to me than... well, a sad, pitiable little Rapunzel.

But he isn't going anywhere. He's just standing there, waiting. Even all his anger seems like a light simmer now and instead he's looking like...

Well, he looks like that night on the beach. Maybe not as eager and less luminescent, but just as patient with the person in front of him. And not patient because he has no choice, but patient because he wants to be. That's something that's still so confusing about him; what he wants.

Right now, he wants honesty.

But Astra makes me feel raw in front of him, so I don't have a clue what the cuttlefish would make me feel. I hold on a little too hard to my forearms, trying to hold myself together. It feels like I could destabilize into a puddle at any second. As far as I know I don't have that power, but no one knows how much I can unravel. Maybe I'd know if Beck and I didn't just have 3 days of testing.

Taking a staggered breath, I say, "Don't be grossed out, please. This is already a lot for me."

James promised, "You're still you, no matter what your skin is."

In front of his kind eyes, I let my skin bristle before smoothing out and fading into the stars and stripes of orange and white, the eyes of black, the small, androgenous being that was found on the ocean shore and raised to be a human daughter.

This time, James' confusion and shock fades. His eyes scan all over me, but instead of recoiling, he takes another step forward.

He raises a hand to touch my arm, but it falls away. I simultaneously shift back to Astra, who feels a lot more comfortable now, given the circumstances. As my curls bounce back onto my shoulders, James says, "So this is why you're in here."

I nod. "As a scientist Mom's pretty scared of me becoming a lab rat. Especially because when I'm anxious, my skin-" As if on cue, it shimmers. At least my skin knows how to put on a good show, even if it ties my guts into knots. "I never planned on telling you. But you just had to trust Astra more than they deserved and I couldn't let you go look for them when I knew you'd never find them out there."

When James keeps watching me, he looks like he has a thousand questions. But, for what I assume is my sake, he keeps it simple. "How does it work, being Kai and Astra?"

I don't mean to keep grabbing onto my arms, but I haven't had to answer these kinds of questions... well, ever. Mom fills Beck in and my parents were the ones figuring it all out at the beginning. No one exactly asked "my story".

Biting my lip, I gnaw on the skin a little more than I should before settling on an analogy: "It's not hard, honestly. I think of it like a turtle. Kai is my outer shell, and it's easy to live like that. She is the simplest version of myself. She feels like me but more... protected. Astra is who I am, but they're the delicate fleshy bits hiding in the shell. Everything is sensitive and it can be hard to be them. But both Kai and Astra are... me." My fingers start to shimmer. No matter how used to the idea I'm getting, it never gets quite comfortable, showing these sides of me, did it? Maybe because it feels like I'm doing something awful, forbidden, that makes even James' supportive behavior inadequate. Or maybe I just think that I'm-

Clearing my throat, I say, "I guess all three of them are me, the cuttlefish is just the squishiest of the squishy bits. No one's seen me like that other than Mom and Beck. Granted, no one's seen me other than them in years. Until you."

In the break of explanations, James runs a phantom hand over my arm, like he can't believe this. I can't blame him. I'm getting to a point where it isn't just the beach; everything feels surreal, like all it takes is one rough breeze and I'll be blown off the shore and stop existing.

Just then, he stares at his hands and mine and asks, "Was it real?"

"What?"

"That night I spent with you, at the beach. And everything here. Was it real? Or are these just... fantasies for you?"

I shake my head, feeling something well up in my chest and choke me up. If my anxiousness was a wave, this was tide pool. A little unreal microcosm of something that'd seem impossible, but was warm and real and, most importantly, so very alive. My hand raised and I wanted to touch his face, but I didn't need to. "For a long time I thought my time with you was a dream. But I'm starting to think that you're the first person who's ever made me feel real."

When he doesn't quite react, I can feel the panic rising in my chest. After all, I'm the one who has all these secret and rules and he doesn't know and I freak him out and I locked him in here and-

With shaking hands, I say, "James, I'm sorry-"

I can't finish my words because James pulls me into his arms. My face shoves against his soft cotton shirt and my fists hold on tight to the fabric. I breath in his cinnamon scent and revel in how warm and soft and welcoming it all is. Before I can stop myself, tears spring from my eyes.

He doesn't hate me.

I'm a cuttlefish freak and he's not pushing me away.

When he pulls back, he cups my face with his hands and wipes away the stray tears. "I don't care what you are. I just care that you're you and you're real." James swallows a shuddered breath before continuing, "Come with me. Leave. You don't have to keep hiding."

"You really think a cuttlefish is safe out there?" I sputter out this defeated laugh, because maybe I'm real, and he's real, but being real out there? That has to be a fantasy. "I can't even climb down that tree."

"We'll have to take precautions, sure, but you deserve to be out there. What about those Ted Talks I need to watch?"

He looks so eager and bright-eyed and I know that he means every word of it. But I'm not Rapunzel or some other fairytale princess for him to save. I'm-

I shrug my shoulders, suddenly so tired. "I don't know." I know it's too much to ask, but I open my mouth anyway. "I want to know, though. And I know I have no right to ask but... Stay? Stay and wait for me to figure it out, just for a little while. Please."

James answers quicker than I deserve. "I can do that." Tentatively, he also asks, "Can I see you again? The first you. If that's okay."

"Why?"

He grabs my hand in his and holds it, rubbing his thumb over mine. It buzzes, like a bee on a warm breeze. I can almost feel it, lost on the beach. He's so lost and he knows it and it should make everything clear that we should keep our distance and he should go but-

With another stroke, James says, "Because I like seeing you."

"You don't have to pretend to like it, I know I look-" But he's so eager and looked so sure and... And I relent.

Letting my bones relax, I fee; my anxiety prickle and the waves roll, but I let it happen. Even though he insisted, he doesn't look as sure as he sounded once he's actually looking at me, tiger stripes and all. My jaw tightens and I say, "This is why I had to run the beach night. I was starting to change into... this. And I know this isn't exactly what a "stunning" person is supposed to look like."

If I thought I was figuring out what James' expressions mean, his next one absolutely baffled me. His brow furrows so deeply that it casts a long shadow over his eyes and he says something under his breath, something that maked his lips default to a frown, but he starts talking before I could ever ask. "Can I read something from that Poe story to you that we didn't finish?"

Even before I nod, he grabs the book off my bedside table and sits down on the edge of my bed. He pats the spot beside him and smiles. Ever luminescent.

James takes a deep breath before he starts reading, but he keeps that wry smile the entire time. "In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled Ligeia. It was the radiance of an opium dream, an airy, spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the fantasies which hovered about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos. Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen. "There is no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, without some strangeness in the proportion." Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity —although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed "exquisite,"."

Even though I can see James stopped mid-sentence, the way he's looking at me stops me dead, too. His eyes are tracing the lines of my cheeks and lips the way I've seen other people stare at the stars and the moon, like they're some great natural wonder, unmoving and undeniable.

My brain doesn't catch up to the feeling of his thumb gently gliding across my cheek until my chest starts fluttering. It's like this serene electricity, the kind that danced across the water under beautiful moonlight.

Hands tucking together on my lap, some part of me knows this can't be what it feels like. This is a handsome, very human boy, and my fingers are- my body is-

It comes out of me like a whisper, but in the tense silence, it acts like the crack of a whip. "You don't want-"

"You can tell me to stay, but don't tell me what I want." Holding onto the side of my face, James tips up my chin and makes me look at him. While I have all those butterflies that I never thought I would get, what catches every heartbeat, every breath, and makes them dance out of rhythm is the warmth in his eyes. "I've wanted you from the first second I met you, my Lady Ligeia. That hasn't changed."

Then, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine and I stop being a cuttlefish and he stops being a man and instead all I can feel is the way his skin feels on mine and how it feels so, so right.

From the first time I met him, he's challenged every part of my reality. James exists with this immovable truth that the impossible isn't as much a dream as it is happiness that hasn't come true yet, and it'll only be sweeter when it does. James isn't a dream boy, some fleeting fantasy that will disappear in the blink of an eye.

He's real and warm and beautiful. And he wants me.